


Merry fucking Christmas

by emimix3



Series: Jacob Zimmermann [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Antisemitism, Bitterness, Canon Gay Relationship, Christian Holidays, Christmas, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Family Issues, Homophobia, I do not respect the classical unities just enough, Interfaith Relationship, Jewish Character, Jewish Jack Zimmermann, Kashrut, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, Miscommunication, Not A Fix-It, Post-Canon, Queer Themes, Rabbits, Religion, Unsupportive Bittles, Vegetarians & Vegans, and that I've discarded them of my own will to piss him off, so that Aristotle knows that I'm aware of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emimix3/pseuds/emimix3
Summary: Bitty had invited his parents to Providence for Christmas just to be polite. Since he came out, his relationship with them hadn't been the same, and Bitty was tired of having to doeffortsto manage a simple conversation with hismother. To have to justify every single of his choices and put up with closed-mindedness.Sadly for him, for some reason, his parents decided to come. For a whole week. With Moomaw in tow.Sometimes Bitty wondered how many orphan kittens he kicked in his former life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> I began this fic in November 2018. It's been finished for a few weeks now, but I hadn't gotten around posting it yet. 
> 
> It focuses on the holiday season, after Bitty's graduation. He moved in with Jack and kept up his YouTube channel.  
> For a thousand and one reasons, I made Jack respect a lot of Jewish rules. I could debate why for hours, but the gist is that I HC him getting gradually more religious once he lives on his own. Let's say it's hard to keep strict kosher in the Haus kitchen.
> 
> Regarding the kashrut; the rules are actually quite complicated and I invite you to learn more on your own. Not everyone keeps kasher, and even less keep kasher down to the letter with a totally kasher kitchen. Do what you want and what you _can_ I guess? One of the main points is that you shouldn't mix dairy and meat together, and one of the ways to make sure of it if you can is to keep everything neatly separated. Eating vegetarian helps a lot, because it suddenly drastically reduces the chances of getting meat on your dairy fridge shelves, pans and sink...
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you'll enjoy !

Bitty was already exhausted ten minutes after his parents and his grandma had set their bags down in his and Jack’s apartment in Providence.

No, scratch that, he was exhausted from the moment he politely invited them all up North for Christmas, knowing fully well they’ll say no because Christmas was always so busy in Madison; but _at least_ they’d be happy he thought about asking them. Also if he invited them, he would have an excuse to stay home and not come to Georgia.

Why would they want to spend Christmas with their gay-ass son - with whom they had a hard time talking with since he came out - and his Jewish boyfriend in a Catholic-majority _Northern_ State at the other side of the country, when they could enjoy the day as usual, in the warmth of Aunt Judy’s dining room with all the cousins and uncles, and at mass in their dear and beloved church, and then the following day with Coach’s family, after all?   

BUT NO, his mama had politely told him “ _Oh, I’ll think about it_ ”, as he expected. And what he didn’t expect was her telling him two days later “ _Your Daddy, Moomaw and I are landing the 22 nd. We’ll stay until the 28th_.”

A whole goddamn week.

When Bitty and Jack had planned to spend the three days that Jack had off in bed, to, you know. Have an insane amount of sex and eat mountains of Chinese takeout as it was their first Christmas living together, and Jack didn’t celebrate and Bitty was just so _itching_ to not do it, either.

So yeah, in a moment of panic, they also invited Bob and Alicia for damage control, and then Bitty promised that from now on, he’ll shut his big fat mouth and never invite anyone against just to be polite.

 

* * *

 

The Bittles and Moomaw arrived the day before the Zimmermanns, who were in Israel for a whole month to visit Alicia’s family, and really, they were going to be a hassle.

Bitty and Jack both went to the airport to pick them up, and the car trip was tense.

It was the first time the Bittles saw Jack since Bitty’s graduation, where they made sure to state their disappointment in the fact that Bitty was not “ _going home now that he’s finished with college_.” Why do you want your son who you basically stopped talking to since you learnt he liked sucking dick to come live right next to you, that was a mystery, but hey. Oh, and also, still at graduation, when Jack had greeted Bitty’s mama with a nice and warm “ _Hi, Suzanne!”,_ as she had asked him to call her back when he had visited for the Fourth of July, she had replied with a smile and a “ _It’s Mrs Bittle for you_.” So yeah, she and Jack hadn’t talked much ever since.

During the half an hour in the car, the only words said to Jack may or may not have been Moomaw saying two or three times that it was great that Jack was such a good friend to Dicky, to share a flat with him like that while he was looking for a good job.

Bitty tried once to correct her, tell her that no, Jack and he were _boy_ friends and that he _did_ have a job (even two! His YouTube channel was two third of his income, and he was giving baking classes in a culinary school a few hours a week!) but it was clear she was refusing it; so, the second time she said something like that, he just smiled and nodded. At least she wasn’t mentioning _girlfriends_ , so she wasn’t so deep in denial. Small victories.

 

Finally, they reached their building (“Oh, fancy! Dicky, that’s such a luxurious place to live in!”) and the minute the Audi was parked in the garage, Jack hauled two of the three suitcases in his arms right away, letting the last one to Bitty, and lead the way without a word to the elevator and then, their apartment.

In front of the door, he gave one of the suitcases to Bitty so he could use his key and open the door; and, before entering, he touched the mezuzah. Bitty followed him in, ignoring the box, and with his family on his heels.

 

“Welcome to our home!” Bitty said, with a huge smile, as he put away everyone’s coats. “Please, Mama, close the door as soon as you’re in- you can put your shoes right here…”

“What was this thing by the door?” Coach asked.

 

Bitty frowned, not sure of what his father was talking about, but Jack, who was crouched and undoing his laces, raised his eyes and said, matter-of-factly:

 

“A mezuzah.”

“What is it for?”

“Protecting our home.”

“Oh,” Coach said, not knowing what to say about it.

“It is really tacky,” Moomaw said.

 

It was, a little bit. Jack had found it in an antique shop, and it was all shiny metal, much more visible than the very plain one he used to have. But still. Bitty frowned at his grandma’s remark, but Jack didn’t say anything. He dropped his shoes in the corner and made his way to the living-room.

Bitty was appalled.

 

“Moomaw, how can you say that?” he hissed.

“What? It’s true.”

 

Moomaw had an entire wall decorated with crosses and naked white Jesuses hanging from them. She doesn’t get to find anything tacky. Sighing, Bitty grabbed her suitcase and motioned his family to follow suit.

 

“Right on the left, it’s the kitchen; here the living-room and dining-room; here the bathroom, the restroom, at the end of the hallway it’s the master suite, and the guest room is right here. We’ve set up the two beds in the guest room already. I’ll let you make yourself comfortable!” Bitty smiled, and he all but pushed his parents and his grandma in there before closing the door.

 

Jack, who still had his cap on his head, was watching him from the living-room, standing there with a defeated look on his face. Bitty went to join him, his steps light and his shoulders down.

Jack just opened his arms to gather Bitty as close to him as he could.

 

“One hour in, one more week to go,” Jack said.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Bitty sighed. “Still have your cap on?”

“Oh. Yeah. Uhm- I’m leaving soon anyway.”

 

That, and he didn’t feel like putting on his kippa at home as usual would be a good idea right now.

 

“I want to apologise in advance for anything Moomaw will say,” Bitty began. “At least my mother knows when to not talk, but Moomaw has no filter. Little old ladies for you.”

 

He thought for a few seconds, and corrected:

 

“Well, ‘ _little old ladies.’_ Your mother doesn’t feel the need to say everything that goes through her mind with a huge smile, regardless of how mean it can be.”

“My mom _isn’t_ a little old lady,” Jack frowned.

“Sweetheart. My grandma is turning 60 this winter.”

 

Alicia herself had celebrated her 58th birthday last month. Bob was 62.

That absolutely blew Jack’s mind. Between his parents’ and Bitty’s grandparents, there was only a few years, and an entire world.

And also suddenly all the hurtful, ignorant comments couldn’t be blamed on a generational issue anymore.

It’s about then that the Bittles went out of the guest bedroom. Bitty let go of Jack when he saw his family making their way to the living room, where Mama and Moomaw began to gush about the decoration of the apartment. Bitty was happy to tour them around the living-room, to show off the different art pieces and photography they were displaying there. 

When explaining the framed photograph of Ransom, Holster, Shitty and Lardo T-posing in front of geese that was hanging above the couch, he could see that he had lost his grandma. Instead, she was focused on the small, grey, live, fluffy rabbit that was on the top of the couch’s backrest and was looking at her with scared eyes.

 

“There’s a rabbit here, Dicky.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s Monsieur Kinigl. He must be freaking out, but- where is Moutarde? He likes new people more…”

 

As on cue, a second, big, brown rabbit bolted from under the couch and went straight under the bookcase. Kini was quick to jump and join him there.

 

“Why are they free?!” Moomaw shrieked.

“Because they live here?” Jack confusedly answered.

“I didn’t know you could keep rabbits free…” Mama said. “Why do you do that? They must eat all the furniture!”

“It’s not that you _can_ ; it’s actually that you _should_ ,” Bitty began. “Rabbits are not made for life in cages, and…”

 

* * *

 

Jack left for the rink earlier than usual, when Bitty, Mama and Moomaw got comfortable in the kitchen to bake a pie or fifty. In a moment of pity, he asked Coach to go with him, because his future father-in-law would definitely be more at ease around a bunch of jocks preparing for a game rather than waiting around an apartment with nothing to do because he wouldn’t be caught dead _baking_ ; also, it was the last game before the Christmas break, so Jack knew that several of the guys would bring some family members along.

Before they left, Jack stopped in the kitchen. Bitty was already elbows deep in dough, and Moomaw and Mama were going through old notecards of family recipes, apparently looking for one in particular. The stack was three times the size of Bitty’s personal recipes collection, so they probably would be spending the afternoon on it.

 

“Bye,” Jack said, kissing Bitty as he always did before leaving. “Love you.”

“Love you too. We’re going to try to get there before the game.”

“Will it be for us?” Jack asked, pointing at the dough with a corny smile.

“This one is just for Tater! He’s got a date with Vanessa Channel 7 after the game, he ordered me this little beauty. Y’all have something to eat if Mama and Moomaw finally decide on something.”

“Ok; so, I’ll tell everyone to gorge themselves on vending machine pastries, because it’s the only ones we’ll see tonight.”

“Oh, shush you!” Bitty playfully said. “Now go, instead of talking shit!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack laughed, stealing one more kiss on his way out.

 

Moomaw and Mama hadn’t said a word, now silently focused on the cards and obviously ignoring them. A few minutes after Coach and Jack left, they finally found the recipe they were looking for, because they approached the counter to begin to look for tools and ingredients.

 

“Ok, let me explain to y’all… We keep the kitchen kosher and vegetarian, so you must only use the blue kitchenware – do not touch the red ones in the last drawer, they’re only used when Jack _needs_ his chicken tenders fix…”

 

 

They made it to the arena in time for the game, and even soon enough to see the Falconers and their families and share with them a slice of the pies they had baked; the pastries were a hit, and so were Moomaw’s and Suzanne’s Southern charm and warm smiles. When Jack made his way on the ice, he still could hear George telling him, her face stuffed with cherry pie: “You hit the jackpot with the in-laws, Jack.”

 

Georgia’s in-laws kicked her husband out when he came out as a lesbian at nineteen, and the tiny amount of contact they still had stopped when he came out as a trans man soon after their wedding -the last words they told him were “You are dead to us.”

Yeah, Jack couldn’t complain, he guessed.

 

* * *

 

Jack pretty much felt ignored. He didn’t usually want to have any kind of attention turned towards him, especially more when he just lost a game like right now, but well. If he can’t go hide in his bedroom, under the covers, with Bitty rubbing his back to cheer him up, because he’s supposed to politely drink some tea with his guests before, well ok. But then, he’d very much like it if said guests at least acknowledged his existence.

Like, no offense to Suzanne and Moomaw, but Jack really didn’t care about what Judy’s daughter Gracie Lou’s best friend Dallas said about Moomaw’s jam. More accurately, that’s not so much that Jack didn’t _care_ , but more that he couldn’t find one atom in himself that gave a flying, single fuck about it. Jack had had more fun at funerals.

Coach seemed just as bored about the conversation, and even Bitty, who seemed exhausted, couldn’t say anything more than some ill-timed mmhmmh’s and others wow’s.

But the tea mugs were only half-empty.

Just as Jack was trying to convince himself that he _could_ do it, (He had managed to survive a game that went into overtime tonight! So now he _could_ survive ten more minutes of church gossip about Jessica who apparently had _sinned_ with her long-term boyfriend, wow how decadant), he felt his trousers being nudged.

Lapin Moutarde was nagging him, not seeming to be in a great mood. Of course he wasn’t, by this hour the living-room was usually empty and the rabbits were sleeping. Jack lowered down, to pet the poor thing.

 

“Oh, t’es fatigué Moutarde? T’en a marre qu’on t’emmerde et tu veux aller te pieuter, hein? Ça me casse les couilles aussi. Sauf qu’en plus moi on me les a pas coupées.”

“I still don’t get why you just don’t get a cat, if it’s to have them free.”

 

Oh, finally, Jack had Moomaw’s attention. It was the first time since she had insulted his mezuzah, yey!

 

“We don’t have cats because we didn’t want cats, we wanted rabbits,” Jack said, gathering Lapin Moutarde in his lap in some sort of defensive reflex.

“And Moomaw, they’re free because they’re supposed to be free, not to live in tiny _hutches,”_ Bitty added. “They need space to thrive.”

“My rabbits are happy in their hutches.”

“Moomaw, you don’t even _raise_ rabbits, you fatten them up for their meat. Believe me, they are _not_ happy.”

 

Moomaw didn’t even try to pretend she listened to him.

 

“It’s too bad your Peepaw couldn’t come up this week. But he needed to stay to feed them.”

“No,” Bitty said, rolling his eyes, “Peepaw didn’t come because last time he saw me, he told me I was sick, a freak and an error and that he was disowning me until I followed church therapy. I don’t know why exactly, but even if for an obscure reason he had _wanted_ to come, I doubt I would have let him stay in my home.”

“Well, your grandpa had always had some strong opinions.”

 

 _Opinions_. Okay.

Jack just raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times. And Bitty finished his tea mug in one go and stood up.

 

“I’m going to sleep.”

“Okay,” Suzanne said, as if everything was normal - and to her, it probably was. “We should decorate tomorrow, we could all do that in the morning so it’ll be nice when the Zimmermanns arrive.”

“No,” Bitty sighed. “We’re not decorating.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because. Jack’s Jewish and I honestly don’t care. We don’t have any tinsel anyway.”

“It’s important, Dicky. It’s Christmas. We need a tree.”

“Well, they’re not actually vital to the celebration, are they?” Jack began, freeing the bunny on his lap. “It’s not like there were a lot of pine trees in barns in the middle of Bet-Lekhem.”

“We’re still getting some ornaments and a tree,” Suzanne decided. “A small white one would be so pretty right here, wouldn’t it?”

 

Bitty and Jack exchanged a long, tired look. Looked like there would be a Christmas tree in their living-room, whether they wanted it or not.

 

* * *

 

“Hi Coach,” Bitty said the following morning, rubbing his eyes and walking in the living-room.

“Hi, Junior,” Coach replied. He was sitting at the dining table, on his laptop, reviewing some football tape. “Your Jack goes to practice even on days off, uh?”

“Yeah. He promised to hit the gym with Tater and Thirdy this morning. Tater because he’s stressed about meeting the in-laws; and Thirdy because he wants to avoid the in-laws. Where are Moomaw and Mama?”

“They are already in the kitchen.”

 

Who would have guessed, uh. It was ten already, of course mama and Moomaw were baking. Scratching his stomach, Bitty tip-toped in the kitchen, still half-asleep.

 

“Hi Moomaw, hi Mama.”

“Dicky, will you please dress?” his mom asked, scandalised.

 

Bitty looked down at himself. He was wearing boxers longer than some of his shorts and an old shirt too big. Definitely one of Jack’s.

 

“Yeah, just a sec,” he yawned. “What are y’all baking?”

“Breakfast,” Moomaw said, showing him the pan she was using.

 

A blue pan.

Full.

Of.

Bacon.

 

Bitty woke up in three seconds.

 

And Moomaw was grinning, blissfully unaware.

And Mama had on the counter next to her packages of shredded cheese and what seemed to have contained grounded beef.

In the kitchen Jack and Bitty kept kosher.

 

“Nope nope nope-”

 

In one movement, Bitty took the dairy pan out of his grandma’s hands, not knowing what he was supposed to do but knowing he had to _do_ something- and boy did bacon smelt bad to him now, he really wasn’t used to it anymore since he left the Haus.

 

“I- Uh- Well- Paper plates! There are paper plates in the drawer-” Bitty yelped to himself, opening a drawer with one hand to take out a paper plate and dump in it the bacon. Then, out of ideas, he put the pan back on the burner. The thing was lost anyway.

On the table in the middle of the kitchen, there were dairy plates, dairy cutlery, dairy bowls out. Some with pancakes in it, some with gravy, some with chicken cuts, some with small potatoes, some with ham.

Bitty just sat down at the table, dropping the bacon paper plate in front of him.

 

“Is that a joke,” he said, his hands on his cheeks and admiring the delicious disaster in front of him.

“Dicky, what devil has gotten into you? Apologise to Moomaw, now.”

“Why is there meat here?” he continued, his eyes focused on the gravy.

“There are more important subjects - like, why did you grab the pan out of Moomaw’s hands?”

“Mama, I honestly think the most important subject is why there’s suddenly ham and gravy in my vegetarian, kosher kitchen. I am pretty sure neither Jack or I have packed the fridge with traif food during the night. And I’m pretty sure you’re the one owing apologises, here.”

 

Mama shrugged. _Shrugged_. She obviously didn’t want to drop _her_ request, but she also knew that she wouldn’t get anything out of her son right now.

 

“When Moomaw and I woke up, we wanted to cook breakfast and lunch for when the Zimmermanns arrive, but the fridge seemed really empty. So we went our way and we bought stuff to fill it.”

“It was em-” that got Bitty to turn his eyes towards his mother. “Of course it wasn’t full! Jack is supposed to go to the store after practice! There was more than enough for breakfast - and yesterday morning Jack made a whole casserole for lunch today! It’s in the fridge!”

 

Bitty turned back, feeling the tears coming. He won’t cry in front of his mom and his grandma because of bacon, he promised, hiding his head in his hands to calm down.

 

“I am your mother, I have to make sure you’re fed correctly-”

“I can’t believe it. I’m an adult. Jack is an adult. Why did you buy food without asking? We are capable of feeding our guests. And we are capable of feeding ourselves. God, how bad is it-”

 

Bitty got up and opened the fridge - and there were several meat packages of the things that had been cooked for breakfast, stuffed wherever there was room, most of them open.

 

“Well, it cannot be worse.”

 

It could. In the oven, was the lasagna that mama and Moomaw had prepared for lunch.

When he noticed the sturdy Viking was actually on, Bitty rushed to pull out of it a half-cooked big blue plate. Obviously, there was shredded cheese on the top of it.

 

“The bottom right corner doesn’t have meat, because you don’t wanna eat meat,” his mother offered.

 

Oh, great, thanks. So the rest of the plate _had_ meat. Perfect. Bitty dropped it on the lost hot plates, because fuck.

 

“Y’all cooked meat and dairy together in our kosher kitchen.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Moomaw began. “You don’t have to eat the meat.”

 

It was ten am, and Bitty was tired.

 

“Yes. I just don’t have to eat the meat. That’s not the problem. The problem is that I made it clear that we kept a vegetarian kosher kitchen, and instead of asking what that entailed, y’all went to the supermarket and brought meat and _pork_ and proceed to contaminate the entire place. Neither Jack nor his parents can eat anything that comes from in there now. I don’t even know how you could think it was okay to bring _pork_ to a vegetarian-and-Jewish kitchen.”

“We did ask you what it meant yesterday! You told us that we shouldn’t use any of the red tools, only the blue ones,” Mama said, “-and we did!”

“Yes! Because yesterday it hadn’t come to my mind that you’d go behind your adult son’s back before he woke up to buy meat! Especially when there was definitely enough to eat!”

“Meat is important! How do you get your proteins otherwise?”

“Meat is _not_ important! You shouldn’t eat meat every day! There are a thousand of ways to get protein that don’t involve eating corpses! It’s been four years I haven’t eaten meat and I’m still alive! Jack is a professional athlete and he gets by very well with an almost-fully vegetarian diet! Stop acting as if you cared!”

“Well maybe y’all want to be vegan, or whatever- but your father wanted bacon, you know he eats some every morning-”

“Well, under his vegetarian son and his Jewish boyfriend’s roof, he’ll have to find an alternative for -oh, wow, the grand total of seven days he’s here!”

“Dicky, I _believe_ I’ve taught you to accommodate your guests,” Mama snapped.

“Oh yes, you did. Still doesn’t mean Jack and I are gonna break our ethics and our morals to put some grease into y’all. Our roof, our rules, and the one rule is ‘no meat.’ Do you even know how hard will it be to re-kosher this kitchen? You used our dairy-ware to touch meat. We can’t use the table, the counters. We gotta clean the fridge. You’ve crossed-contaminated everything.”

“You’re talking about cross-contamination now? Dicky, I’ve cooked since before your mother was born. I’ve never-”

“Moomaw. When you keep kosher you don’t mix meat and dairy. You use different pans and tools and ideally, two sinks and fridges. Y’all used our dairy stuff to cook your corpses. Y’all’ve cross-contaminated the entire kitchen.”

 

Bitty sighed. If he yelled once more, he’ll cry.

 

“I want you both out of my kitchen.”

“No. We didn’t do anything wrong. We wanted to help.”

“Well, you sure as hell didn’t. Next time you’ll ask.”

 

Bitty began to gather on the paper plate with the bacon all the food that had been prepared for breakfast, and pushed both his mom and grandma in the dining room where Coach was still focused on tape, unphased by all the yelling that had happened a few feet away from him.

 

“Here. You have your breakfast,” he said, setting the plate on the table.

 

He went back to the kitchen to grab something in a drawer, and all but threw three pairs of wooden chopsticks on the table.

 

“I don’t know how to use that,” Moomaw said.

“We’re not dogs, Dicky,” Suzanne frowned, visibly angry at her son’s vehemence.

“Well, maybe you should have bought some plastic forks and knives, instead of filling our fridge with unsolicited shit. That’s actually one of the only things we’re out of.”

“Give us some real cutlery, then.”

“And have even more work to re-kosher it all? You’re kidding, mother.”

 

Bitty made his way back to the kitchen. And he sighed, totally at sea.

He had no idea of where to begin. So he took his phone, and he called Jack before he’d begin to sob.

 

“Hi, Jack. Uuum. How to say it… There was an accident.”

“ _Bits are you okay?!”_

“Yes but.”

“ _Love what happened-_ ”

“Mother and Grandmother found the fridge too empty. So they went grocery shopping. By the time I woke up, there were meat and _bacon_ all over the counters. And the table. And the blue plates. And the blue spatulas. And the blue pans. And the oven. _And the fridge_.”

 

There was one moment of silence, and then a small, a sad, a _disappointed_ :

 

“… _Oh_.”

 

That won’t do. Blood or not, you don’t get to make Bitty’s boyfriend feel small, sad, and disappointed.

 

“I am so angry I am livid. And a bit lost. I don’t know where to begin to fix this. Should I get someone from the synagogue or can I do it by myself?”

“ _Bits, er… it’s okay. Get the pork out and well, I’ll take care of it when I’m back, and for today I’ll survive stuff cooked with defiled tools-”_

Jack’s voice was still small. The one he used when he wanted to try to avoid conflict and to dilute issues.

Too bad, Jack. Your boyfriend’s hobby was to pick all the fights that happened around him.

“No. No no no, Mister Zimmermann. I’m going to take care of it, now. If you want to keep kosher under your own roof, you will keep kosher under your own roof.”

“ _Bits, really, it’s not a big deal._ ”

“If it wasn’t a big deal, you wouldn’t have bought everything in double and you wouldn’t have called a rabbi to kosher the place. You wouldn’t make the effort to keep things separate the rare times you cook yourself a steak or some chicken. But you do make the effort, because it’s _important_ to you. You have every right to be angry, and I’m going to fix it before you come back, and before your parents arrive.”

“ _Yes, but… I don’t want to bother.”_

“First of all, it’s your home, sweetpea. It’s not a bother to ask for rules to be followed. Second, what would you said if someone switched all my vegetarian ingredients with meat-based products? You’d probably be angry and try to fix it because you know it’s important to me.”

 

Jack took a few seconds, sighed, and said:

 

“ _Yes. You’re right. Eating kasher is important to me. And I don’t think I’m angry, except if you told me it was done on purpose. I’m just… Crestfallen. I was really excited about the dinner tomorrow, but now… I’m not sure how we’re going to do it. Neither I nor my parents can eat anything that comes from this kitchen. Because you can’t really fix it before tomorrow, Bits.”_

“I need to put every thing in boiling water, right? One by one?”

“ _Depends the thing, but yes, it’s about it. But, hum, first you gotta not use anything for twenty-four hours.”_

“Twent- Oh yes. I had forgotten about this thing. _Fuck.”_

“Dicky, language!”

 

Bitty had forgotten for one moment that he wasn’t alone as, well, the kitchen was wide open on the dining area where his parents and his grandmother were sitting, meaning they heard everything.

 

“Mother, I think it’ll be better for everyone if you let me deal with this and you don’t bother me until I’ve finished. However, Jack and I will gladly hear apologies.”

 

Instead of waiting for excuses that wouldn’t come, Bitty left the kitchen by the door on the other side, to not have to look at his mother anymore. He sat on the floor right outside the kitchen door, in the entrance of the apartment.

 

“Sorry.”

“ _You don’t have to be, Bits. Is it tense at home?”_

 

Bitty kept his voice down.

 

“Yes. I’m so pissed. Maybe, yes, okay, we haven’t explained them all the rules of koshrut, so yes, they didn’t know, but… They haven’t asked. And I’m still not over the fact that they went behind our backs to buy food and fill our fridge. Do they think we’re kids? Idiots? I know my parents think I’m stupid for going vegetarian and that it’s a weird rebellious fad. They think I’m famishing you and forbid you to eat meat around me.”

“ _Really? Have you told them I decided, of my own volition, to stop eating meat at home?”_

“Since when do they care. I think that right now, they’re in a state of mind where they refuse to try to understand anything that I don’t do their way. Not eating meat. Living with my boyfriend without being married. Wanting to marry my boyfriend one day. They think I’m a kid and an idiot.”

“ _Love, they have no right to make you feel bad about your choices, you know that? All of them are valid, and great. If they make you feel better, if they make you feel like you’re a greater person, then it’s good choices. But love, I’m really worried. Do you want me to come home sooner? To have them out of here? I can invent an excuse if you need to-”_

“Jack. It’ll be okay. Just tell me what to do about the kitchen, and you go shopping when you’re out of the gym. I’ll update the shopping list with everything I had to discard, okay? So don’t forget your phone in the car _again_. Also are the vegetables for the rabbits still good, or do I need to discard them too?”

“ _They should be. Just, listen, don’t do it alone, please? Go ask Miss Simon on the third floor if she can help you. She’s the one who helped me set the kitchen in the first place. I gotta go, but I’ll be back soon. Love you.”_

“Love you.”

 

 

Miss Simon on the third floor couldn’t come to help, as she was busy wiping the floor with her grandkids in a card game. She had no remorse sending her son Nathanael, who was visiting her, to deal with it.

 

“I’m sorry,” Bitty said, when Nathanael followed him in the kitchen. “I’m just really lost about where to begin and what to do, exactly. My boyfriend isn’t back for another few hours.”

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Nathanael, a bit bored, replied. Or maybe it was his default face? He looked like a thirty-something IT guy. Thirty-something IT guys always look bored.

“I’ll bake y’all pies and cookies as soon as I can use this kitchen once again.”

“Yeah,” Nathanael said, this time significantly less bored.

 

Bitty’s mom and grandma, still at the dining table, were watching them when they thought Bitty wasn’t looking, and ignored them obviously when Bitty was turned their way.

_Well. If you want to play this game, don’t forget you raised me._

 

“So, we need to clean all the things on the table, in the sink, the counters… The _fridge._ ” Bitty explained. “Only those two burners have been used. The oven, too.”

“Please tell me the oven is self-cleaning.”

“It is. Does it help?”

“ _Yes_. We just have to run the self-cleaning mode, no need to wait a whole day… So, let’s begin-”

 

No one came to bother them while they were cleaning. The only interaction was when Bitty found the bag Moo Maw and his mother used to shop, and he went to the dining room to give them the receipts and a check covering the exact price of the groceries they bought, down to the penny.

At noon thirty, the kitchen was looking pristine. Nat and Bitty were cleaning the last thing (the fridge); Nat on the floor, sorting all the food in big bags, Bitty disinfecting and cleaning the walls.

 

“ _Yes, sweetheart, a kosher kitchen, that seems such a good idea! Once you get used to it, that’s no problem at all, is it_?” Bitty was ranting. “Please forbid me to ever encourage my boyfriend ever again.”

“Well, _one_ accident in - how long did you say, two years and a half? Honestly, that’s good. I have two kids under seven, I feel like I have to re-kosher my kitchen every week. Mind it, we eat meat, so we have more occasions of cross-contamination, but still…”

 

That’s when the front door opened, letting in Alicia and Robert Zimmermann, both wearing huge coats and scarves and snow boots that wouldn’t look out of character on Bitty. They let their coats and their boots near the door, and when Bitty saw them, Alicia still had her copy of the key in her hand, while Robert was carrying a huge duffel bag.

 

“Hello!” Alicia beamed; and then, seeing the door of the kitchen open and in it, an angry Bitty rubbing clean the fridge and a stranger sorting food, and a harsh smell of lemon cleaning product instead of lemon pie: “… Hi?”

“Alicia, Mr Jack’s Dad. You’re already here,” Bitty panicked a little.

“What is happening?” Bob frowned as he entered the kitchen.

“Mmh. There was a bacon incident. And beef lasagna,” Bitty explained. “I’d hug you, but…” he opened his arms to show his T-shirt damped with cleaning products and the plastic gloves on his hands. “How were your holidays? And- Oh, I’m sorry, Nathanael, meet my in-laws, Bob, Alicia, meet Nathanael Simon, the son of our neighbours who’s helping me out. Also he just promised to teach me how to play chess.”

 

Nathanael didn’t reply, just gasped loudly.

Alicia and Bob seemed to find it funny.

 

“Nice to meet you, Nathanael,” Bob smiled, “-and to answer your question, Mr Jack’s boyfriend, the holidays were warm. So warm. One month in the desert is _hell-_ ”

“It is not the desert, Robbie, we were _near the sea_. My parents don’t live in Beer-Sheva anymore, now they’re in Herzliya. They have a private beach.”

“Still. It took away all my Canadian abilities. I can’t stand cold anymore.”

“Sounds like my kind of place,” Bitty said.

“You should come for Pesa’h,” Alicia proposed. “If Jack has games, too bad for him, he’ll stay here and take care of the rabbits.”

“The rabbits! Where are my grandsons?”

 

Bob dropped the duffel bag on the floor and made his way to the living-room where he knew the two bunnies would be lounging around, as usual, and Bitty only heard him greet his parents and his grandma after he’d got the tamest of the bunnies in his arms.

 

“Is he carrying him like I told him to? He isn’t, is he?” Bitty asked no one in particular, still focused on the empty fridge.

“He probably is. He spent half of the plane trip watching rabbit-care videos,” Alicia explained. “So, uh.  A bacon incident?”

 

Bitty turned sour.

 

“Let’s say I slept in and I woke up with meat all over my kitchen. And -oh, I’m so sorry, I can’t propose y’all any pie to eat, but the casserole Jack made was in an hermetic box so it’s good, the oven is still self-cleaning, but the microwave is safe to heat it. Or, hum- I guess there are stuff in the cupboards if you want something sweet. Maybe some cookies still in the jar?”

“Don’t worry, Eric, we will find something to eat. And, uhm-“ she pointed all the bags of food on the floor; “what are you going to do with this?”

“I’m going to bring them to the shelter when I leave,” Nathanael, who finally seemed to find back his voice in front of _Alicia Zimmermann_ , said. “Eric called them and apparently they’re okay to take all of this, even the fresh and cooked food?”

“They know me. I always bring them the leftovers of the cooking school… And -Oh my, Alicia, sorry, your bags. Is there only the duffel one?”

“I also have a suitcase, I let it by the door, but don’t worry-”

“No, no, I’m taking care of it right now,” Bitty said, grabbing the duffel bag. “We put y’all in the master bedroom, Jack and I will stay on the couch in the living-room while you’re here; and, oh, boy, what have you hidden in this bag? How is it that heavy? You’ll never guess what Tater told me about the last roadie…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's Hebrew in there ! If on desktop you can hover for translations, otherwise it's in the end notes !
> 
> It SHOULD be right. I made easy-ass sentences to go with my A1 level lol. If I made a mistake, please point it out !!!!!!  
> The French is right I know as much

 

Jack came back home with two bags of groceries, and Tater and Thirdy behind him carrying each another big bag. Nathanael had long left, and Bitty had had the time to put on clean clothes and to print and laminate a big sheet with the basic kashrut rules, that he hanged on the fridge.

 

“Bitty! We bring food!” Tater said while Jack kissed Bitty hello. “Where we put it?”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to, just let it here and I’ll take care of it-”

 

Thirdy stopped Bitty before he could take the bag in his hands, telling him:

 

“Bitty. You fed us enough so that we can get you food and put it in your cupboards and your fridge.”

“But I don’t even have any pie to thank you…”

“We owe you a thousand and one favours so don’t even think about it,” Thirdy said, as he began packing the fridge.

 

Jack didn’t have as much qualms as Bitty about using his teammates to put the grocery away, because he let his bags on the floor to go to the living-room and greet his parents, who were in the middle of a card game.

When he came back to the kitchen a few minutes later, it was with his cap in his mouth and both hands trying to pin his kippa on his head.

 

“Oh so you’re wearing it today?” Bitty asked, taking the cap to put it on the table.

“Your parents are not here?” Jack asked back.

“In the guest bedroom. They just came back from a walk.”

“Ok- and, oh my, so much?”

 

Jack was looking around the kitchen, where, on each counter, there were kitchenware on handtowels, waiting gently 24 hours before being thrown in burning-ass boiling water.

 

“It’ll be quicker to ask if I can use the mikveh tomorrow. Can you use the mikveh to re-kosher things? I don’t even know.”

“If we do that, let me bring them, so that I’ll spend at least one hour alone.”

“I’ll text the rabbi. Also, I called Heitzmann and cancelled the turkey order.”

 

He had what now. Jack had ordered his butcher a cooked turkey to serve for Christmas Eve, so that there would at least have _some_ meat, and he was supposed to go get it tomorrow afternoon.

 

“Your parents proved they couldn’t be trusted around meat, I’m not risking my kitchen a second time,” Jack shrugged. “I really don’t want to make an effort for them right now.”

 

Well, that was fair enough.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time the Bittles were coming out of the guest room, Tater and Thirdy were making their way out of the apartment, promising a dinner (“Drinknner, Zimmboni – we only eat the wheat in our beer and the grape in our wine”) with Bitty and Jack as soon as all of them were free of guests. The two Falconers waved everyone goodbye, and all the people remaining in the apartment went to join Alicia and Bob in the living-room to play some board games.

Nothing bad ever came out of board games, as long as Jack and Holster didn’t play together.

While Jack and Bob began to set up the board of Photosynthesis on the table, Alicia sat next to her son, her eyes fixed on her son’s head.

 

“… Atah khovesh hakipa?” Alicia asked him.

“Oh. Ken,” Jack replied in his hesitant Hebrew, touching softly the kippa on his head. “Raq babait sheli vébet hakhnesset. Akheret ani khovesh covah.”

“… Hevanti hevanti,” Bob nodded.

“Oh boy. Papa, arrête ; tu pars un mois en Israël et tu sais-tu toujours pas dire autre chose que ‘hevanti, hevanti’ ?”

“… Hevanti.”

 

Richard and Suzanne were trying to arrange the tiny pine tree that they had purchased during their walk, while Moomaw was glaring at Alicia and Jack and was de-tangling the fairy lights and the short tinsel they had also bought.

Bitty was on the floor next to them, re-tangling the fairy lights near the rabbits before turning them on, and off, and on. The rabbits were de _light_ ed.

 

“See? Decorations are a good idea, Dicky,” Suzanne laughed, looking at the pets. “And we found some cute ones!”

“Yes, I mean. They’re pretty. But…” Bitty replied. “Yes. They’re pretty.”

“They are!” Alicia said. “This white tree with all the blue bulbs is really beautiful!”

“It’s a bit plain,” Moomaw couldn’t help but say, “Y’all should see the tree I set up at home. It’s so big, and I’ve got fancy old ornaments my mother’s mother gave me!”

“Oh, suddenly antiquities aren’t tacky…” Jack bit back.

“-I also help with decorating the tree at church. Speaking of which, Dicky… Where will we go to church tomorrow?”

 

Bitty groaned. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Again.

 

“Moomaw, we’ll go where you want. I don’t know the churches here.”

“North really turns people Godless, doesn’t it. My friend Anna’s son went to a Northern school too, and now he’s an atheist.”

 

Welp. Great mood setting, Moomaw. Absolutely great.

 

“Moomaw, we already talked about it. I don’t know what I believe in and if I even _believe_ in something and I would very much like it if you let me work on this _by myself_ , without guilt-tripping me. And if it turns out that I actually am atheist? Then the North is less to blame than _your pastor._ ”

“Ma’am, let’s not have this debate again,” Coach sighed.

“I’m just saying -Dicky, you don’t have to _work on_ anything, or think, just to have to have faith, if you just went to talk to the pastor you’ll know-”

“The board! It’s set up! Let’s play!” Jack cut Moomaw off as he was shoving the last pieces.

   

At least, when the game began, everyone was too focused on it to complain for a blessed hour.

 

“Oh, by the way Jack, I got the answer this morning for the casting for this series you like,” Alicia said when Jack and Bitty were putting away the board once the two of them had wiped the floor with all the other teams. “I’m in.”

“ _Yesayes.”_

“Jack,” Bob stated. “Ne redis plus jamais ça.”

“Wow, that’s so great, Alicia!” Bitty smiled. “What about the musical movie you’re working on?”

“Still on it with the scriptwriters. I really hope we’ll find a studio to produce it.”

“She really works a lot,” Bob chimed in. “I don’t know how she does that. I’m so glad I’m retired.”

“You’re just lazy, pitou.”

 

The conversation slowly slid to the subject of work, after Alicia had replied to Suzanne curious questions about the movie. Bob had himself a lot of questions about Coach’s job, and honestly? That was the most that Bitty’s father talked since he got to Providence.

 

“And you, Dicky?” Moomaw asked. “What job do you plan to get?”

“Mmh. Have you heard something that I haven’t about the cooking school or YouTube closing?”

“No, but I mean. _A real job_. Like my friend Pam’s grandson, he was on the YouTube too and now he’s in law school…”

“We never know what can happen, Dicky,” Suzanne added. “The Internet is so volatile… And you’re just filming yourself while cooking…”

“Moomaw, Mother, I already told you _several times_ about how much of a real job, with real skills video-making is. Just drop it.”

“I’m just saying-”

“Aaaand if I don’t order dinner right now we’re never going to be delivered before nine PM, be right back.”

 

* * *

 

 

Around midnight, Bitty still hadn’t gone to bed. Moomaw, his parents and Jack’s had bid their adieux long ago, but Bitty couldn’t go to bed. He felt too exhausted to.

Jack found him still in the kitchen. He was sitting on the floor, door against the oven, still in his dirty T-shirt and pyjamas sweatpants, both rabbits on his lap.

 

“You never came to bed,” Jack said.

“Weren’t you sleeping?"

“Can’t when you’re not here.”

 

Jack sat right next to him, careful not to wake up Kini while doing so. Lapin Moutarde lazily inspected the hand he turned towards him, and accepted to be pet by his other dad.

 

“I overreacted,” Bitty said, absent-mindedly caressing the bunnies.

“You think so?”

“They didn’t know. It was an honest mistake. I shouldn’t have kicked them out of the kitchen and freaked out like that.”

“Was it, though?” Jack asked.

“An honest mistake, or an overreaction?”

 

Jack didn’t reply right away, instead settling correctly Moutarde, who had made his way to his lap. Monsieur Kinigl was still sleeping soundly.

 

“Well, it’s not any meat that they bought. It’s pork. They _do_ know neither of us eat it, your mom at least complains enough about the fact that we won’t eat her pie when she uses lard. And you told me; they almost only bought meat, when our fridge was lacking _everything_. There was a deliberate move here. We told them we had a vegetarian kitchen, that’s not what they’re used to, they took the matter into their hands. At the end of the day, all of this - what they did, your reaction, why you and they are angry - it’s not about the kosher kitchen.”

“Love, it _is_. You can’t eat anything that comes from your own kitchen for the next 24 hours. I had to give away so much perfectly good food because they couldn’t be bothered to _ask_.”

“I mean, it’s not _just_ about the kosher kitchen? Hear me out, Bits - I’m a bit angry and a lot disappointed because of the kosher situation, but I honestly think they didn’t know what they were doing. Yes, they could have asked, but I think that putting meat on every surface available truly was a mistake due of ignorance and not something malicious. What I mean all of this root in something more than _just_ the kashrut. It’s… A question of control and independence.”

 

Jack was talking without looking at his boyfriend now, both hands deep in the bunny’s fur and the eyes fixing the tiles on the kitchen’s floor.

 

“They… They bought us food, without asking, because they assumed that we weren’t adult enough to do it and we needed help. That alone is enough to make someone upset, but they bought food that we don’t eat, but that we ‘should’ eat. It’s… It’s a blatant disrespect of our life choices and a way to berate them, even subconsciously. Like… In the kitchen, your mom and your grandma are used to have the control, to have things be done _their_ way. Here we made it clear that it wouldn’t be the case, that there were strict rules about what could be made and how. They didn’t listen, so yes, you flipped out and you kicked them out of the kitchen. And they reacted badly, because have you met you three? Have you seen how important a kitchen is to you all? How central to your life it is? You refused to bake here with them, and you erased every trace of their passage here. You made it clear; in this space, it’s our rules. If you don’t follow our rules, you don’t get to interact with us. And…”

 

Finally, Jack turned towards Bitty to look at him, while he continued:

 

“They’re your parents, your grandma; you’re an adult. They have no right to control you, and… I think they just realised it. You’re not them, and you’re not following their rules, the ones they taught you, and I think they took it personally. As an attack on their morals and their beliefs. You’re not going to church; you don’t know if you even believe anymore, but you follow some Jewish traditions. You’re not going down South, you’re settled and happy far away. You’re never gonna marry a nice Christian girl to have pretty blond kids with. You stopped to eat meat, so you’re always the odd one at barbecues, and you can’t eat their family pies anymore. You’re turning the hobby they taught you into your livehood, something that neither of them managed to do. What they did, that was probably not even conscious, but I think they tried to carve themselves a place in your kitchen. In your life. A place with their rules and their values, and not yours, that they find immature and too different for their taste. So yes, maybe you overreacted about the kitchen, but it wasn’t about the kitchen.”

 

Bitty had both hands in front of his face now. When Jack curled his arm around his waist to pull him closer, he didn’t cry, but he sniffed, several times.

 

“I’m so tired… So tired to be at war with my mother. That we’re constantly at each other’s throats since I came out, but to act as if everything is well. I’m so mad at her, because she’s trying to make me pay for something and I don’t even know what. I’m tired to not have my mama anymore. I’m tired of her being mad at me. I’m tired of being mad at her. I’m tired that my father doesn’t _talk_ to me, even if at least _that_ doesn’t change from before. I’m tired that my Grandma thinks I’m worth less because I lost the way of Jesus, or whatever. I’m tired that my Grandfather didn’t even want to come because I _disgust_ him. And to be honest, I’m jealous that your parents are so great. I mean, they make me feel warm and welcome and they love me and they adore me, but; it just, you know. Reminds me of what I _don’t_ have with my family.”

 

Jack didn’t say anything for a while. He needed to find the best way to formulate what he had to say, and that was, to say the least, hard to do so.

 

“My own parents… Your mother must be in my father’s situation.”

 

That was probably not what Bitty was expecting to hear. He turned towards Jack, and frowned at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

 

“Well, it’s that, you know; my dad and I have the same passions, the same hobbies, just like you and your mother. My mom tried to get me into acting when I was younger, like your father tried to get you into football, and it ended just as bad as you can imagine. But my father and I bounded over hockey, and we spent all our free time together playing hockey, talking hockey, watching hockey. He didn’t even realise that as a result, until the overdose, I barely spent any time with my mom, and how much he was… Controlling, regarding hockey. That playing hockey wasn’t good enough, I needed to play hockey _his way_. Aiming for being the first pick in the draft, playing in the NHL, preferably for his own teams, and do the same things as he used to back when he was still playing. Just like your mom and your grandma love that you bake, but you must do it _their_ way. As a stay-at-home skill, for church luncheons, following old notecards with family recipes, and not as something you experiment with or that you get paid to teach to strangers. I’d say you’d ‘just’ need something that will make them realise that you don’t need to do things their way to do them well, and that making your own path isn’t disrespecting theirs… But that makes it sound like it’d be something easy to do. And that’s not. You’re stubborn with your morals, more than I had ever been, and they’re stubborn with their ways, more than my father had ever been. I don’t know what you can do. I just know I will support and protect you as much as I can, because stubbornness or not there’s only so much disrespect towards us I can tolerate.”  

 

Bitty took a few moments to reflect on that, leaning a bit more into Jack’s side.

You’re not the problem, Jack was trying to say. You’re not actively hurting them with your choices, and if they _feel_ hurt, it’s on them, not on you.

That’s not something Bitty had ever been told.

 

“Thank you, sweetpea,” Bitty finally said, kissing softly Jack on the cheek.

“Give me the monster and go to bed,” Jack replied, grabbing Kini, who was still asleep on Bitty’s lap. “I’m joining you in a few.”

 

Bitty got up and went straight to the living-room to fall on the couch, letting Jack alone with his thoughts, his phone, and his rabbits on the kitchen floor.

 

 

**Shitty, Jack**

>> Hey Shits, question. How do you make things better with parents with whom you can’t communicate ?  
>> Bitty’s parents are here and it’s. Well.

> …….. hell if I knw bro 🤷♂️  
> how did YOU make things bettr /W ur parents

>> Oh you know, a small overdose and a cardiac arrest really helped to improve the communication issues we had.

> WEEELP tru tru tru right u told me that lets not try that w bibite  
> I don’t really knw what /U/ can do besds supporting the babe but ill phone him in the mornin  
> from what hed told me;; our ps seem to have, like. Not similar reason, but smilir tactivcs

>> Yes it seems quite close from what you’ve told me about your father and your grandparents.  
>> Thanks

> DW  
> now its late my poor plant go to bed  
> ill see u 4 boxin day

>> His grandma called my mezuzah ugly :-(

> that’s not nice

>> Please validate me more

> not nice at all

>> I’ll take what I get  
>> Love you, gros mardeux

> !!!!! love u too my silky caterpillar

 

**Holster, Jack**

>> Bitty’s grandma said my mezuzah is ugly  
>> :,-(

> oh my god  
> 😡😡🤬  
> oh my god im gonna kikc her so hard ill put her in orbit atound the earth  
> don’t listn to her ur oldass protect box is cool as babanas

>> She also unkoshered my kitchen with bacon

> I know how to hied a body

>> Thanks for the validation

 

 

Jack put his phone back in his sweatpants’ pocket, gather the sleeping Monsieur Kinigl in his arms, turned off the lights and made his way to the living-room - careful to not walk on the other rabbit in the dark.

He, for one second, debated about putting the bunnies in their basket for the night, but quickly decided against. Instead, he put the (still sleeping, he was a terrible prey animal) Kini on the couch next to him before spooning Bitty, knowing damn well that Moutarde wouldn’t be long to hop and join them.

Jack put his lips on the nape of Bitty’s neck, as he put his hands around his waist to pull him closer.

It was only day two of the week-long visit of his in-laws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “… Atah khovesh hakipa?”="You wear the kippa?"  
> "Ken"="Yes"  
> “Raq habaita vébet hakhnesset. Akheret ani khovesh covah.”="Only at home and at the synagogue. Otherwise I wear a cap"  
> "Hevanti hevanti"="I see I see"  
> "Papa, arrête ; tu pars un mois en Israël et tu sais-tu toujours pas dire autre chose que ‘hevanti, hevanti’ ?”="Papa, stop ; you go to Israel for one month and you still don't know how to say anything else than 'hevanti hevanti' eh?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the last chapter! Hope you'll enjoy!

At eight, there was some noise coming from the kitchen. Jack woke up immediately, mumbling “My kitchen-”, and he quickly de-tangled himself away from Bitty and put back his shirt correctly, before he made his way to the kitchen.

No bacon.

That was an improvement.

 

“Hello,” he mumbled.

 

Suzanne, who was looking through the fridge (without touching!) and Coach, who was sitting at the table, reading the news on his phone, greeted him back.

Jack, half asleep, went to the fridge to help Suzanne before she managed to summon some blood sausage at the tip of her fingers.

 

“Sit down, Mrs Bittle, I’ll cook… What do you both want? Scrambled eggs? Oatmeal? Toast?”

“Oh, I can-”

“No, no, I insist. You’re a guest,” Jack said, with a huge smile. “Go sit down.”

“You cook, son?” Coach asked him.

“Well, as a human being, I eat three meals a day,” Jack replied, taking eggs, peppers and onions out of the fridge. “So yeah, logically, I cook.”

 

Bitty emerged a few minutes later, his eyes still closed and following only the good smell of coffee and onions to make his way to the kitchen, where his parents and Jack’s were now sitting on all the chairs of the kitchen table, and Jack was still prepping food.

 

“Hi… Mama, Coach… Alicia, Bob-”

 

He stopped to kiss everyone’s cheek as a greeting, finally reaching Jack, who was focused on not burning the eggs (in the dairy pan that Mrs Simon lent them) that were cooking on the one burner that hadn’t been used the day before. He just opened his arm, to let Bitty come under it and cuddle his side.

 

“Hello sweetpea,” he said, getting on his tippy-toes to kiss his boyfriend’s jaw.

“Mmh,” Jack replied.

 

He was not looking away from the pan, but he leant his head just enough so Bitty could reach his cheek. He was stirring the scrambled eggs with only one hand, the other still secured around Bitty.

 

“Moomaw isn’t here?” Bitty asked to his parents.

“No, she’s still sleeping,” Coach said.

“For once, she’s not up with the chickens,” Suzanne added. “Having a TV in the guest room is a mistake, Dicky, she insisted trying out Netflix and watching so many things!”

 

Well. Good to see at least some people had had a nice evening, that didn’t involve getting scrapped off the floor by your significant other.

 

“Y’all should move to the dining room,” Bitty offered. “There are not enough seats here; Jack and I will bring you breakfast. Hop! Go!”

 

The parents were all hushed out, and Bitty sighed so hard he felt like a part of his soul left his body.

 

“Well. At least it’s Christmas, bud.”

“It’s Christmas _Eve._ The suffering only begins,” Bitty shushed. “Give them ten minutes into breakfast before they bitch about not spending it with the entire family, because it’s cousin Eric’s baby’s first Christmas and Aunt Judy _will_ cook turkey _and_ venison and gnagnagna. I don’t even know why they bothered to come.”

“Is Christmas always like this? Hallmark movies would have _lied_ to me?” Jack snickered.

“The Christmas Spirit is actually quite close to the bitching spirit. What, you don’t also have religious bitchfests? I’d be disappointed.”

 

Jack shrugged, getting the eggs pan out of the fire - hard to manoeuvre with Bitty still under his arm, but it’s not like they didn’t have any practice in cooking while clinging to each other.

 

“You want religious bitchfests? You come at my father’s family Pesa'h. Or you compare how my parents and my mom’s brother competed over mine and my cousin’s b’nai mitzvah.”

“Is it that terrible?”

“I had to stop my parents to rent out _several_ _hot-air balloons_ for mine.”

 

Jack took a few seconds to think, and added:

 

“Promise me not to rent the entirety of Disney World to one-up Holster when it’ll be time for all our kids Bar and Bat Mitzvah.”

“If the purpose is to one-up Holster I can’t promise anything.”

“Aaaand that’s why I love you.”

 

While Bitty and Jack began to bring the food to the dining table, Suzanne went to open the window and fluff the pillows of the couch, even when her son asked her to _just please sit down Mother we can do it, alright._

 

“… What is that?”

 

Jack turned around to see what Suzanne was talking about.

She had crouched to pick up, on the floor near the couch Bitty and Jack slept on.

A bottle of lube.

 

_Oh shit oh shit oh shit-_

Yes, so. Sue them. Bitty had been stressed out yesterday so yes, MAYBE, Jack had pulled out the lube bottle they hid in the crack of the couch and they had sex. It’s not like they made any noise that could have woken up any of the guests, or whatever, though; it had been slow, and lazy, and they hadn’t even bothered to take off their clothes nor to change positions in anyway, Jack still spooning Bitty. If they hadn’t forgotten to hide back the lube, no one would have known.

 _But_ , they had forgotten to hide back the lube and now, the bottle was into Suzanne’s hands, and Jack and Bitty could only watch her face whitening as she began to realise, exactly, what it was.

 

“I’m going to. Take that,” Bitty said, red in the face, as he strode across the room to grab the bottle out of his mother’s hand. “Let’s never mention this.”

“Dicky is that a joke? How can you- _sin like that_ … There are _guests_ -”  

“Mother, please, do not ask questions you don’t want to hear the answer of,” Bitty said, hiding his face in shame. “And drop it.”

“I won’t, Eric. This is – blatant disrespect for us all, and a _shame_ , I mean, what will the Zimmermanns – what will your Moomaw say, about you… That y’all…”

“Oh God.” Jack finally snapped. “I. Yes. Yes, I, an adult man, and your son, another adult man with whom I have been involved in a romantic relationship for a few years now, have used this lube last night to have sex under our own roof, on our own couch, while we were alone in our own living-room. Now what? You’re going to have something to say about _that_ also? Because honestly, I begin to lose track of all the things you’ve complained about since you arrived barely two days ago. I think it’d be easier for everyone if you just wrote up a register of grievances, that I’d be delighted to pretend to give a single shit about before throwing it in the fire the second you’re out of our home. I’d like if you stopped to find disrespectful every single thing that we’re not doing according to your vision of life.”

 

Alicia put her hand on Jack’s forearm, in an intent to calm him down. The contact made him realise that he was trembling a little.

Shit.

 

“Jack, descends d’un ton, ça va mal finir.”

“My chill and my ability to be a doormat are laying around somewhere between two spatulas waiting to be re-koshered, sorry. I only have so much patience, and it had been seriously undermined by all the casual antisemitism I had to listen to those past two days, I don’t need to _also_ hear about our sexuality being _shameful_ over this. Seriously if I wanted to hear people complain about me and criticise every single of my choices, I’d have put on ESPN or followed Deadspin’s twitter.”

“Shameful was maybe a word a bit strong here,” Suzanne said, “but that’s not a reason to shove in our faces-”

“We haven’t shoved anything in your face, we forgot to hide lube and you made a big deal out of it. You’re just looking for excuses to complain, so that you don’t sound as homophobic as you are.”

 

That probably wasn’t the most clever thing to say. Suzanne’s eyes grew wide, and everyone else got really, really silent.

 

“How dare you? I try-”

“Please, you’re not trying. I wouldn’t find Bitty crying after every single interaction and phone call he has with you if you made a lick of effort. You wouldn’t turn your eyes away if we do as much as standing next to each other. I don’t know what is that you’re trying to accomplish, but if it’s hurting us? Congrats, you’re doing great. But I’m done. It’s been a year and a half you know your son is gay, and you even had even more time to try to adjust at the idea because you _know_ he had been bullied with homophobic motives since middle school. So just, wrap your mind around it. We’re queer, we’re living the life we want to live and it has nothing to do with what you know, period. You’ve been here two days and you are exh _austing_ us. We have _nothing_ to be shameful about, and I demand excuses for the both of us _right now_. I also demand excuses for our kitchen. And I’m gonna be a good egg here and gonna rugsweep, for now, all the other things that deserve an apology and that you all have _done in the last two days_.”

“Demand?” Suzanne replied, shocked. “Show some respect- you _demand_ nothing, son-”

“Oh? Son? So _now_ I’m family and not the roommate?” Jack cut her, resolved to not let her get a word in. “Is that because you’re trying to discipline me or because you can’t just try to ignore anymore the fact that we have sex? And respect is earned, not owed, and before earning mine you better try to earn my pardon, because Bitty is maybe willing to try to overlook how much hurt you inflicted upon him those past years, but I’m not. Your son is not yours to control. And contrary to what you’re thinking, he _is_ good enough. His life his good enough, and his choices are good enough. Sorry, not sorry our household isn’t up to your standards so you can’t brag about it to all your church friends, because we’re too not-Christian, too hipster, too Northern, too vegetarian, too gay, too _whatever._ I sadly tolerated you belittling us for our choices for two fucking days, but I guess I care more about you respecting us than I care about keeping up a false peace to protect ‘the spirit of Christmas’ or whatever other bullshit. So now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here because I’m exhausted of being in my own goddamn home.”

 

And on that, Jack left, not forgetting to slam the front door on his way out.

* * *

Bitty tried to damage-control for the entirety of two minutes before giving up. His mother had been appalled by the lack of respect Jack showed them, Alicia had been appalled by the lack of respect Bitty’s parents showed _them_ , Coach was sitting at the table and wasn’t saying _anything_ , and Bitty had tried to talk to his mom but quickly realised he _couldn’t_. He had so many things to say, but every time he opened his mouth, he had a little voice in his head that told him ‘ _Don’t answer your parents back. You must show them respect and obey and listen to them, you’re their son.’_

The little voice was Coach’s. And Mama’s. And Moomaw’s. And Aunt Judy’s, and Uncle Jim’s, and the pastor’s, and Mrs Robinson’s from across the street. And Bitty’s own.

So Bitty clammed up, and couldn’t even listen to what his mother and Alicia were saying, and he was this close to cry, so he got up, took his phone and left the apartment, to go join Jack.

But first, he stopped in the hallway, and let himself slide against the wall so that he was sitting on the floor, because he couldn’t stay up any more.

 

**Poo-poo Man, 5’7’’ Bite**

>> Hey Shitty can I call you I need to talk smtg happened

 

Shitty didn’t answer. He phoned himself, two seconds after Bitty sent the message.

 

“Hi, little mister Sunshine.”

“Hi, Shitty.”

“Where are you right now? Are you safe?”

 

He didn’t know. Probably. At least safer than in his living-room.

 

“In the hallway. I’m going to go look for Jack. I think he ran away to the building’s gym.”

“Wow, wow. Tell me what happened?”

 

Bitty did, as he began making his way down the stairs to the basement where was located the gym. He almost didn’t cry, listing all that has gone wrong since the moment his family landed here.

 

“I feel so bad”, he finished, as he was around the tenth floor. “I cried about it to Jack’s yesterday, but I made it all about me; I didn’t even take in consideration that it was hard for him, too. He had to deal with all the same bullshit, plus the casual antisemitism, and I’m so, so sorry I made him go through that… And I can’t even stand up to my parents. I just can’t say anything. Physically.”

“Like, what? They don’t let you talk, or…”

“No. Yes. Not directly. Well, it’s- it’s stupid.”

“No, clearly bro, it’s not.”

“It’s… They don’t _directly_ stop me from talking, you see? It’s just that… I’ve been raised being told by all the adults around me, at home, at church, at school, that I should remember my place and I should always respect my elders and obey my parents, no matter what. That I shouldn’t talk back and just shut up and listen, because as I’m younger I know nothing. So now… I can’t.”

“Wow, that’s fucked up.”

 

Bitty sat down on the stairs. He just wanted to sob.

 

“I’m so tired.”

“You can be.”

“I don’t know how to fix all of this.”

“Sometimes…” Shitty began, with the voice he used when he tried to be wise, “When you don’t know how to fix shit it’s that you’re not the one who has to fix it.”

“Probably, but. I’m so angry. I was stressed about them coming here, but I was also happy, you know? It proved me that they were _trying_! And -and we had such good news we wanted to share with them all, and now- Now I don’t want to anymore! Because they’ll still find a way to complain about it! And I don’t want them to taint that! Because- Jack and I just got engaged (Shitty gasped) and we don’t have rings, I can’t wear one when I bake anyway and Jack hates rings because of his sensory issues, we have pendants that are still at the jeweller’s because we wanted them engraved, and we chose them together, and it’s definitely not diamond- it’s not even gold- and I can already hear my mom and my grandma complain about that because that’s not how things are supposed to be done -that, or they use that as a proof that we’re not _actually_ _engaged_ , like a proper heterosexual couple would be and I _hate_ that. I hate that I don’t want to share something so great with my _mother_. Christmas has not even begun and I already hate it. It’s the last goddamn time I spend it with them.”

 

Shitty chuckled a bit about that, and he put out there:

 

“Well… What about next year- we don’t even try?”

“Mmh?”

“Hear me out. You hate Christmas. I _hate_ Christmas. Bro, it’s been twenty minutes Lards and I arrived at my grand-parents and _this_ phone call? It’s somehow the _high_ of my day. It’s that awful. Next year, we don’t try to please our families and act all happy. Instead, we host a three-days long Haus 2.0 non-denominal December party. Of us all, who cares about Christmas? Holster, Lardo and Jack aren’t Christian, we both don’t want to see our families, maybe only Ransom won’t be up for it, I don’t know how important Christmas is for him. But like, if our parents really want to see us, they can do it any another moment of the year, instead of using _Christmas_ and _family holidays_ to hurt us.”

 

That was something to consider. Really. Anything would be better to Bitty than having his parents back here. Or worse, having to _go down to Georgia._

But it was still family.

 

“My heart says yes…” Bitty began. “But my mind says to patch things up and hope that by next year, we’ll all get along like before. I just want to have a great relationship with my parents, like Jack has. I’m a bit jealous.”

“Well. Jack himself hasn't always had a great relationship with his parents.”

“I know, but… They managed it. They managed to fix what was wrong. They wanted for things to get better, and they worked on it.”

“Yes, but; mmh, I don’t know how much he told you about all of this, to be honest, but as you said; they _worked on it,_ ” Shitty began, hesitant.

“I know about the therapy.”

“Cool, I hoped he’d have told you about that. So. Maybe you should try that with your parents too? You know that it’s only after Jack’s overdose that him and his folks realised how fucked up things were between them. And, well; he was in therapy. His parents were on their own in therapy. They also had therapy together. And it really helped; they needed it. Jack hates that fact, though. He sees as a failure that his family needed that to love each other.”

“… Shits, when had he talked to you about that?”

 

Shitty took a few seconds, and then said:

 

“During our first year at Samwell?”

“Oh. Well. He hasn’t talked to you anymore about that then?”

“Not really? It seemed to be a really upsetting subject for him, so I never brought it up again.”

“Okay. Then well -I guess you’ll be happy to learn that in all those years, he changed his mind on the subject? When he talked to me about it; he was glad and happy that he and his parents went to therapy together. He had a totally different vision on the whole thing. He told me that he realised that it’s not that his parents and him didn’t _love_ each other, but it’s that they didn’t know _how to_ love each other, and therapy gave them the tools to do so, or something.”

“He really said that?”

“Yeah. And then there was a tirade about how every human being was different, and every relationship is different, and how difficult it is sometimes to just be on the same wavelength than the people you care about, blabla. I don’t remember all of it, you should ask him.”

 

At the other end of the line, Shitty let escape a little sound, like a sob.

 

“I’m so proud of this marvellous fox…”

“He’s an otter. And, well,” Bitty smiled, “if he comes from _that far_ , then I’m even prouder of him to think about it all that way now. Now, tell me more about how awful your Christmas is.”

“Oh my God! I had my father on the phone yesterday! And-”

 

* * *

 

In the building’s gym, Jack hadn’t changed and was just laying on one of the benches, his eyes on the ceiling and not moving at all. He was the only one here -why would a resident decide to follow their workout routine at nine AM on Christmas’ Eve?. He didn’t seem to have noticed Bitty entering, but after a few seconds he sat up, and removed his earbuds as he was turning towards his fiancé.

 

“I called your mother a hypocritical homophobic anti-Semite,” he stated, his eyes on his feet.

“Is that an apology?”

“No? I’m Canadian, I know how to say sorry when I want to.”

“Good.”

 

Bitty walked to him, and hugged him close. Jack, still sitting, hugged back immediately, letting his head rest on Bitty’s chest and his hands make soothing motions on his back. Bitty himself wished he could return the favour, but he couldn’t move any more.

 

“I am so sorry,” he managed to say. “I’m so ashamed.”

“Don’t be. You’re not them. The whole issue they have _is_ that you’re not them. I shouldn’t have gone off that much, maybe. But I stand by everything I said.”

“I don’t know what to do. You’re right. I wasn’t respected. _We weren’t_ respected. I feel terrible for making you stand up for me while I couldn’t talk.”

“You didn’t make me do anything. I did it just like you stood up for me when the kitchen was defiled. You’ve got my back, I’ve got your back. I have to admit I _am_ a bit embarrassed that the final straw for me was a bottle of lube, though, but honestly anything would have made me snap after how I found you last night.”

“I don’t know why I froze. I managed to tell them off just fine yesterday. I guess it was easier, because it was just about defending you. And this morning it was also about me so I just… Couldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I… I feel awful that your parents had to see that. Why did we invite them? It’s a shitshow, Jack.”

 

They talked a bit more. When they came back upstairs, Bob and Alicia were rekoshering the counters, and while doing so Alicia was on the phone with her own mother. Bitty didn’t speak two words of Hebrew, but Jack and his barely-beyond-basics level seemed _stunned_ by what he was hearing. Apparently, an angry Alicia was an Alicia with an _interesting choice of words_. And Bob, who didn’t speak any more Hebrew than the day before, was adding to it in French -that Jack’s grandparents also spoke-, even angrier.

Bitty understood some of _those_ words. He was quite happy to have _Bad Bob_ on his side.

As for Coach, Suzanne and Moomaw were Skyping the rest of the family in the living-room, and when she saw Bitty, Moomaw got up, with an angry face and about to tell him off, but Bitty just told her, “Don’t.”

He didn’t want her to go down in his opinion.

 

* * *

 

At least, it was calmer. Like, no one was talking to anyone, so no one was yelling.

Maybe it’s that, the Christmas spirit they talk about in Hallmark movies.

Or maybe the true Christmas spirit was to give lavishly, thing that Jack was happy to do by paying the modification of the plane tickets so that the Bittles could go back to Georgia the following morning.

 

This night, for Christmas’ Eve dinner, Suzanne and Bob were setting up the table with Jack, staring daggers at each other (the three of them were coming and going between the kitchen and the dining room to get cutlery and plates), Alicia was working in the master’s bedroom, Moomaw was knitting in front of the TV, and Coach… Coach didn’t know what to do with himself and was hanging out in the kitchen where Bitty was cooking. Not saying anything.

Bitty opened the fridge to get out some carrots tops and other greens to chop down, and, as if he had heard the voice of God himself when he heard the sound of the knife, Lapin Moutarde bolted his way into the kitchen because it was Dinner Time.

Seeing the pet hoping around his son’s legs, Coach bent to try to catch it.

Bitty frowned - it was the first time his father tried to interact with the bunnies -, and after a few tries, he said:

 

“Stop that. Rabbits don’t like to be carried.”

“They don’t?”

“They’re prey animals. They’re scared of everything, and being carried and hold five feet away from the floor without being able to move is especially frightening to them. You need to go down to his level -look.”

 

Bitty crouched down, and Coach followed suit.

 

“See?” Bitty said, holding out his hand towards the rabbit, who nuzzled it immediately. “You let him set the pace.”

 

Coach didn’t seem to trust the beast very much now, and was hesitant when he held out his own hand.

 

“You’re very big and loud, and you move fast. He’s more scared than you are. So stay still and let him come to you.”

 

The rabbit still ignored Coach, instead nibbling at Bitty’s knee.

 

“Well, you can’t force him, but look-” Bitty began, before turning to Jack, who was in the kitchen to look for the nice forks. “Sweetpea, give me the food.”

 

Sweetpea gave Bitty some of the parsnip cubes he had cut, that Bitty immediately handed to Coach.

 

“Here, try with that. You need to show him you’re not a threat.”

 

Slowly, Coach handed the parsnip to the rabbit, who suddenly found some interest into him. He cautiously came closer… And closer… And snatched the cube out of Coach’s hand and hopped back to Bitty to eat it safely near his feet.

 

“See? He got closer”, Bitty said, stroking him. “Maybe you can try to pet him again? Be slow and stay in his field of vision, and if he’s scared, back off.”

 

Coach tried again, and the rabbit kept eating, even if he didn’t look away from this strange man and his hand getting closer one second while doing so. This time, he didn’t run away or tried to hide behind Bitty, though; and he let Coach put his hand on his fur and pet him a little bit.

 

“It worked!” Coach said, and he was grinning below his moustache.

 

It didn’t work long though, because soon enough Moutarde took his food and hopped back to the living-room with it.

Bitty and Coach stood back up, both smiling.

 

“So, you need help with the food, son?”

 

* * *

 

After dinner, and when Coach, Suzanne and Moomaw were back from church (Moomaw didn’t even comment on the fact that Bitty didn’t come with them… Probably because she was inflicting him the silent treatment), everyone had gone to bed. The bags were ready to go, only needing the night garments on everyone’s backs and their toothbrushes they’ll use in the morning for Jack to be able to haul them all in his truck. Bob and Alicia would also leave first thing in the morning; and then, for Christmas’ day lunch, the whole squad would be there with overnight bags, at least three kegs, a dozen of wine bottles that Shitty would steal at his grandparents’, and a shitload of take-out from all the Chinese restaurants in town.

There was so much to unpack that Jack had no idea of where to begin. Probably with proposing some therapy sessions to Bitty. And by doubling up is own. And by never celebrating a family holiday ever again.

 

Bitty was on the pull-out couch, where he was sitting in his favourite fluffy bathrobe, with a bunny on his lap and the other next to him, asking for pets.

 

“Hi,” Jack said, as he sat next to him. Bitty looked away from his phone, to be graced with the presence of his fiancé, who had two way too full glasses of wine in hand. Bitty took one and cuddled to his side, and Jack kissed his temple.

Both stared at the tiny decorated pine tree in front of the couch, with its turned off fairy lights and its very few bulbs.

 

“Merry Christmas,” Jack said.

“Merry fucking Christmas.”

 

Their first Christmas will probably be the last for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your comments and kudos! I'm glad you enjoyed

**Author's Note:**

> [I'm on tumblr!](https://insertatitlehere.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> The fic is fully written, the next chapters will arrive soon.


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